Lost with the Sea
by writer-at-heart01
Summary: Davy Jones and the goddess Calypso were so deeply in love. Then, something happened and they were torn apart. There's is a love story lost with the sea. This is how it all started.
1. Preface

If you're looking for a love story, you've come to the wrong place. This story may start with love but it ends with a tragedy far worse than that which you'll find in Romeo and Juliet or any other of Shakespeare's renowned works. For, although the story of Romeo and Juliet ends in the death of two lovers, they died for their love. In this story, they lived on, but only at the price of losing their love. If you're reading this thinking you'll find a great story of adventure with pirates and gold and romance, you're right. But if you're expecting it to have a happy ending, you'll be greatly disappointed. Real life doesn't typically have happy endings. And though this story doesn't seem like it is real, just trust me – it is. I'll turn it over now to those who have the right to be telling this story but I did warn you.


	2. Chapter 1

I can still remember that day well. I was walking along the dock, the hot sun beating down on me and the smell of salt water heavy in my nose. Dogs scuttled passed me with ratty, peasant children holding onto them. Venders sold rotten vegetables and sailors called to one another. I was enjoying it all.

In just a few weeks, my father was sending me out to sea. Though I belonged to one of the richest noble families in the country, my father still believe it was a good idea for me to go out and sail the oceans. He said it would be a great way to see the world. He was going to put me on a ship to the New World and wave goodbye, pretending to wipe fake tears from his eyes so that my mother was satisfied. I knew he was going to be glad to have me gone, though. I was nothing but a thorn in his side.

So, there I was, enjoying what little time I had left on land. Not that I minded being sent off to sea. I was sure I wouldn't miss a thing about the stable ground beneath my feet. It was too predictable. It never moved. The ocean – now, that was another thing. Always moving, unpredictable, exciting. Just right for me.

That's when I saw her. She was standing a little ways away, talking to one of the fat vendors. I scowled at first. A woman should not be talking to one of the vile vendors here. They were too delicate and dependant. But, then, I realized that she wasn't like any of the girls I had ever seen. She was gorgeous but that wasn't it. The way she held herself oozed confidence and beauty. And she didn't seem to be arguing with the vendor like I expected. She seemed to be…flirting with him. He wore a dazed look as he handed her an apple and she walked off in my direction, taking a bite of the apple with a smile on her face.

Then, she was in front of me.

"Staring, are we?" she asked me, her voice twanged with a peculiar accent.

I just gaped at her. She was one of the most – actually, _the _most- unusual woman I had ever seen and the most beautiful. She was truly gorgeous. Her skin was a dark brown that I hadn't seen on any person other than slaves. But it was obvious that she wasn't a slave. Despite the fact that her hair was knotted in tight dreadlocks that were piled on her head and was quite messy, I knew she wasn't a slave. Her dress was too nice. It wasn't like one of the ridiculously froufrou things I saw most noble woman wearing but it wasn't a potato sack like peasants wore. It was corseted around her bosom with blood red fabric but the rest draped down her legs and arms in a shimmering gold color. It was unlike any dress I had ever seen and I appreciated the simplicity of it.

"You're still staring," she said but she didn't sound mad. There was a laugh to her voice and a twinkle in her eyes.

"Sorry, ma'am," I said but I couldn't tear my eyes away from her. She couldn't be more than two years younger than my eighteen years. Regardless, it didn't matter. My father had married my mother when she was fourteen, half his age at the time. I didn't even know this girl's name and I already thinking of marrying her.

"Well, if you're going to stare, you might as well tell me your name." She still wasn't mad. It sounded like she was enjoying the attention.

"Davy Jones, ma'am," I told her, reaching out a hand towards her as though I was greeting a man. I should have been bowing to her but I had lost all logic.

"Davy Jones, eh?" she said, taking my hand lightly in hers. I still couldn't figure out her peculiar accent but it sounded like music to my ears. "I'm Tia Dalma."

"Tia Dalma," I repeated. "Would you like to walk with me?" I could kill myself for being so rash and rude but I didn't want to let her out of my sight. She was so beautiful and interesting and different.

She laughed and it sounded like chiming bells. "Well, of course." She took my arm before I could even offer it.

*******

The boy seemed to be dazzled by me, watching my ever move. He kept staring at me with those wonderful green eyes of his. I won't lie and say I wasn't at all dazzled by him. As I took his arm, I laughed. The boy's eyes followed my every move. If only he knew who I was. Calypso, goddess of the sea. The very one who was said to have kept Odysseus captive on her island, wanting him for a husband. All lies. I was a whore, sure, but not a bitch. Odysseus had stayed with me by choice and only when that nasty Hermes reminded him of home had he decided to leave.

Oh well. I lived alone on that island for centuries after that and only now had I decided to see what had become of the mortals. A new and fascinating country had started taking over the world. England. And now I was hanging onto the arm of a handsome boy. He really was handsome though he was quite quiet. He would be fun to play with. I was glad I had chosen such a young age to look.

"This is place is so wonderful, so different!" I exclaimed. "I've never seen any place like it."

Davy took the bait. "You've never been to England before?"

"No, I haven't," I admitted with downcast eyes. I looked at him from under my thick lashes, blinking them flirtatiously.

"Where did you live?" he asked, truly curious. "You're accent is so different."

"I came from the New World," I answered automatically.

"Is it as great there as they say?"

"Not quite. England is much more fascinating and I've only been here a few hours."

"Where is your family?"

"They sent me out here alone."

He seemed truly shocked by this, disbelief etched on his chiseled face. He was one of the first men I had talked to since Odysseus left my island but I was sure he was handsome for reasons other than that. His jawbone was well defined and his nose straight. His eyes sparkled like emeralds above his sharp cheekbones, surrounded by a fringe of wonderful lashes. His blond hair was shaggy, complimenting his fair skin tone. Every once in a while, his lips would twist into a beautiful crooked smile. The arm of his that I held felt muscular and his clothing hinted at royalty.

"Miss Dalma –" he started but I cut him off.

"Enough of the formalities," I said, light and teasing. "Tia will suffice."

"Tia," he said, the crooked smile on his lips again. "If you don't mind my asking, where do you plan on staying?"

"I'm not sure," I said with a shrug. I really wasn't that concerned. I could get anyone to let me into their house to sleep. All it took was a little magic.

"Well, that's unacceptable," Davy said. His face was stern but his voice was almost happy. "I insist that you stay with my family. We have a few extra rooms and an extra maid that can tend to you. It would be my parent's and my honor to have you stay with us."

I looked at him, smiling. I licked my lips quickly but not too quickly that he didn't notice. He was going to be fun to play. I had never truly been in love but I had many lovers. And I was sure he was going to be the best of them all.

"If you insist, Mr. Jones," I said innocently.

"What happened to losing the formalities?" he asked, a smile in his voice as well as on his lips. "It is just Davy."

"Davy," I mused. This was going to be fun.


	3. Chapter 3

"Son, what have we told you about bringing your wenches home?" Davy Jones's father asked him, regardless of the fact that I was standing right there. I smiled as Davy looked back at me, a scarlet blush on his cheeks and an apologetic smile on his lips. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. I had been called a lot worse than a wench. I wasn't quite worried about it.

"Father, she's not my…wench," Davy protested. "I found her by pier and she needs a place to stay. I thought since we have space…"

"We are not a charity for peasants," Davy's father said.

"I'm sorry to intrude, sir," I cut in. "If you prefer me to leave, I will."

"Where are you from, young girl?" Davy's father demanded.

"The New World," I said. "I grew up in one of England's colonies."

"You're accent is quite peculiar," he continued. "And I have never seen anyone with skin like yours who was not a slave. Are you sure you are free?"

"I am bound to no master," I said confidently. Not even the great Zeus could figure out how to control me.

"Very well, son," Jones said. "She can stay. But I will be counting the silverware."

He turned on his heel, walking away with his nose held high in the air. He reminded me of one of those overly-skinny dogs with the really narrow snouts. I stood there for a minute, trying to figure out how someone like him could have a son like Davy who was nice and sweet and kind. Too kind really.

"My dear," Davy's mother said, reaching for my hand and taking it in hers. It was the first time I heard her talk. She had a sweet voice and a kind face to go with it. "I'm so glad Davy was kind enough to offer you a place to stay. I am Georgia."

I smiled at her. Georgia was much shorter than me and had rounded curves yet she was still skinny. She was quite pretty too and I found myself envying her light skin tone and rosy cheeks. i_For Zeus' sake, Calypso,_ /iI snapped at myself mentally. i_If you had really wanted to be pale like this woman, you could have. You have no right to be jealous./i_

"My mother thinks I'm a spoiled aristocrat," Davy scoffed but a smile played with his lips.

"I know you're a spoiled aristocrat," Georgia said, smiling at her son. "I'm just glad you don't always act like it – like your father does. I must apologize for my husband, Tia. Don't even ask me why I married that stuck-up, lying, cheating pig. He's always sleeping around and–"

"Mother," Davy said, sounding appalled, but she just waved him off.

"Well, it's true," she continued. "You know it is just as much I do, maybe better. Sometimes I wish I could go down to the Pope and get him to annul our marriage but you're father would probably have me hanged for that. The bastard."

"Mother," Davy said again, but now he just sounded exasperated. "Come on, Tia."

He took my arm and led me away from his mother, shaking his head.

"My parents are a bit mad sometimes," he said. "My mother's right – my father's a stuck-up bastard – but most would say she has a little too much life in her sometimes. I have no problem with it but not many of the women here like her for it."

I giggled. "I thought she was amazing. If only more women were like that these days, I wouldn't feel so alone. Women used to be that way."

"Used to be?" Davy asked, laughing. "Must have been a long time ago. You and my mother are the only women I've ever met like that."

"It _was _a long time ago," I mused.

"You say that like you were there," Davy said. "How old are you, Tia?"

Damn it. How could I have let something like that slip? I was such an idiot sometimes that I forgot things like that. Mortals weren't supposed to know us gods existed anymore. It used to be ok, back when the Greeks and Romans ruled the earth. They had believed in us and we were even able to interact with them. When Odysseus washed up on my shore, he wasn't shocked at all to find that the only people living there were a goddess and her maids. Now, though, if I were to tell Davy what I was, he wouldn't believe. _Hades_, he'd probably run away screaming.

Deciding to keep up my flirting, mysterious persona, I said, "Older than you could imagine." I winked at him, knowing I had him in my trap.

********

Tia really was unlike anything I had ever met. She was so full of life and so beautiful. I didn't think she was afraid of anything, least of all speaking her mind. She chattered about many things, not bothering with the worthless small talk that was one of the only things acceptable. But it didn't allow you to get to know anyone and she seemed to know that. Every once in a while, she would lick her lips to moisten them and I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to kiss those lips. I wondered if she was doing that purposely so that I would think of kissing her.

After I showed her the room where she would be staying, I decided to give her a tour of the house. She clung to my arm as I showed her around, laughing and talking. I wanted the tour to last forever just so that she wouldn't have let go of my arm.

"What's in there?" Tia asked as I walked passed one of the many doors in our house without showing her what lay on the other side. It was an old door, weaken by age. The wood was bleached and nearly destroyed.

"My organ," I said.

"An organ? You play the organ?" she asked jubilantly. "Will you play something for me?"

I sighed. Truth was, I was one hell of a good organ player. The best in our little town. Perhaps even the best in the country. Yet, I hated to play for other people. I enjoyed playing alone, letting the music take me over and fill the room. But if there were others around, I couldn't play as well. I got nervous and couldn't let the music take over for me. It never sounded too pretty. Yet, I couldn't find a way to refuse playing for Tia.

I held the door open for her and sat down next to her on the bench. The organ was a massive thing that took up most of the room. Not even the one in the church was as nice as it. The pipes covered the walls and the keyboard sat in front of me. I placed my fingers on the white keys and took a deep breath.

It started off soft, tinkling, soft notes filling the room. It was almost like a lullaby, something of my own writing. At least, that's how it was supposed to start. The high, soft notes filled the room, slow and sensual but also sweet enough to bring tears to one's eyes. My right hand continued to play out of the soft notes while I laid a deeper melody with my other fingers.

The music swelled and I pounded the notes, hard and deep. The music was loud now, overbearing, no longer sweet but intense. I continued, adding the more complex patterns to it, pounding on the keys with my fingers. Every measure became more intense, louder. Then, the music slowed again, the soft lullaby playing. Only now, it was sad instead sensual, leaving behind notes that made you want to weep.

After I was done playing, I sat there for a minute, staring at the keys, wondering about the song I had written a few months ago. I had based the tune off how a love story my mother had told me about a long time ago had made me feel. It was a wonderful story though it was one with an extremely sad ending.

I looked over at Tia. She was wiping a tear from her cheek. She smiled at me.

"That was beautiful," she whispered. "You – you wrote that?"

"Yeah," I said, blushing.

"It was…perfect."

"Thanks."

She licked her lips again and I wanted nothing more than to kiss her. I had kissed girls before but I had never felt the need to kiss them like I wanted to kiss Tia. I had never felt this attracted to a girl. I tore my eyes away from her face and started to play the lullaby portion of my song again. I couldn't kiss her just liked that. She would think I was way to rash.

She leaned her head against my shoulder as I continued to play. Was it possible to be in love with a girl after knowing her for only a few short hours?


End file.
